“It’s him! Viktor Krum!” Ron yelled, pointing excitedly at the famous seeker among the Durmstrang students. “I can’t bloody believe it! Viktor is here in my school, in the same Hall as me, breathing the same air.”
After greeting Karkaroff and showing him to his seat next to Madame Maxime, Dumbledore turned to the students. “Good morning, bonjour and добро утро to all.”
“It is mine and the Hogwarts family's immense pleasure and honour to host you. Albeit the time we are together is brief, I hope this tournament allows us to learn something from each other and create some unforgettable memories. I’m sure you are all tired and hungry, so I won’t bore you much longer. Let’s feast!” Dumbledore clapped his hands and the empty plates in front of them filled with food. The house-elves outdid themselves this time, during his four years in Hogwarts Harry had never seen this much variety of food.
Ron, who had been complaining about hunger until minutes ago, was now ignoring the delicious dishes in front of him and was gazing dreamily at Viktor Krum.
After a long bout of staring and not eating, Ron finally said something. “Krum’s going to win this tournament, I’m sure. He won the Golden Glove award.”
“Yeah, and lost the World Cup,” Hermione snarked.
“Because his teammates were dragging him down. You said this tournament is a solo affair, right? Krum will demolish the competition, I can feel it.” Ron returned to stare.
Harry decided not to point out that Ron didn’t even know if Krum would want to participate.
Even if he didn't own a Krum figurine like Ron, Harry could understand his friend’s admiration. Krum was a fantastic seeker, much better than Harry. The Wronski Feint he performed at the finals was brilliant, Harry still remembered how amazed he felt when he watched Krum shoot upwards while Lynch crashed into the ground. And, really, losing at the Cup final and becoming second best in the entire world is nothing to sneeze at.
Plus Krum was damn handsome, though that wasn’t something Ron would care about.
“Desist Weasley.” Malfoy’s unpleasant voice sounded off from the Slytherin table, which was next to Gryffindors. “Krum’s not gonna shag you, no matter how hard you stare at him,”
“Sod off Malfoy,” Harry shot right back and glared at him.
“Why Potter, I’m looking out for you,” Malfoy said with mock shock. “The last thing you need is for your boyfriend,” he emphasized the word, “to put a pair of horns on your head. You already resemble a grindylow so much.” Malfoy finished and his cronies broke into laughter at his stupid joke.
Dubledore started talking again, drawing their
attention. “Here to explain the rules of the Triwizard Tournament is Minister
of Diplomacy and International Affairs and my good friend, Barty Crouch,”
Dumbledore clapped and moved aside so the mustached man Harry had noticed
before could take the lectern.
“Thank you Albus,” Minister Crouch cleared his
throat before continuing. “Eternal glory!” he shouted, “that is what awaits the
student who wins the Triwizard tournament. His or her name shall be recorded in
the annals of history alongside all the formidable and valiant past winners.”
Harry snorted. Minister Crouch was trying way too hard. No one besides Hermione even knew this tournament existed until minutes ago. He looked at Ron, hoping to joke with him about it, but his friend seemed transfixed by Crouch.
“And because to the victor goes the spoils, the
winner of the tournament gets to take home the beautiful Triwizard Cup,” he
flicked his wand and the display holding the cup floated to his side so he
could show it to the students and then he floated it back to the table. “And
that’s not all. Since this is a very special year, the first time the
tournament is held in over two hundred years, the winner shall also receive
1000 galleons.”
Ron gasped at the mention of the monetary
reward and stared at Minister Crouch harder. Most of the Great Hall shared his
sentiment. Students who were slouching or yawning now sat straight up and
listened attentively. Minister Crouch smirked, knowing he had captured the
student’s interest now.
“But to win the Triwizard Tournament that
student, the school champion, must accomplish three tasks. Tasks who will test
the student’s magical prowess, powers of deduction and, of course, ability to
cope with danger. And to select which student will represent each school we
have ourselves an impartial judge. Igor if you will.”
Harry was confused. High Master Karkaroff would
be selecting the participants? That hardly seemed impartial to him.
Karkaroff approached Minister Crouch holding the bejeweled box he was carrying earlier. The Minister touched the box with his wand making the lid open and retrieved from inside the box a large wooden cup.
“This is the Goblet of Fire,” Crouch said and the goblet he was holding with his left hand was set alight with a beautiful blue flame. “It shall determine who is worthy of becoming champion of each school.”
Minister Crouch flicked his wand to levitate the box that held the Goblet and placed it a good distance from where he was standing. And then floated the Goblet from his hand to the top of the box.
“To enter yourself as champion, write your school and your name on a piece of parchment and put it in the goblet. Do not worry, the flame doesn’t burn,” Minister Crouch chuckled, amused at his own non-joke. “And please write your entries in block letters, so they’re easier for me to read.”
He continued. “The Goblet will give us the names of the three it has judged worthy to represent their schools at dinner tomorrow night. You have until then to put your name forward.”
“And,” Minister Crouch sighed, his voice filling with disappointment, “to prevent any underage wizard from falling in temptation...” he stopped speaking and pointed his wand to the floor. The Minister made a circular motion with his hand conjuring a circle of blue runes on the ground around the goblet. “...I have put in place an age line that will prevent anyone under seventeen from getting to the goblet.”
Ron let out a long sigh of disappointment. “Of course,” he said sarcastically under his breath. Most of the younger students started booing and protesting. “That’s rubbish,” Fred and George yelled in unison. “Let us compete,” some Hufflepuffs started chanting. The Beauxbatons kids looked horrified by the entire scene.
Minister Crouch took the negative response in stride. “I know, I know. I think it’s an unnecessary restriction too. It was an imposition by Prime Minister Fudge himself. He wouldn’t agree to let me revive the tournament without it.”
He waited for the crowd to calm before continuing to speak. “Lastly, I would like to warn you that the act of putting one's name on the goblet creates a binding contract, there's no backing out if you're selected as champion. So be sure that you're fully committed before entering your name. Now that you've been properly warned, the Triwizard Tournament is officially open for entries.”
“Shame we’re not old enough to enter, eh mate?” Ron said.
Harry considered the idea briefly. He did like the excitement of playing quidditch, but quidditch was relatively safe and in quidditch he was part of a team. He was not about to undergo three deadly tasks by himself for some kudos. “Don’t quite see the appeal of becoming champion Ron. I’d rather not put myself in the path of an angry cockatrice.”
“Says the guy who killed a basilisk.”
“To save you sister, you prat; not for glory and some galleons.”
“You’ve been famous and loaded since you were a baby, you wouldn’t get it,” Ron dismissed Harry’s point. “I wish I could enter,” he said wistfully.
“I for one think Potter should be our champion,” Malfoy started, “Who better to represent the joke that is this school than a clown?”
“Aww, what’s wrong Malfoy?” Harry replied with fake compassion, “Upset your Daddy can’t buy you the championship, like he bought your seeker position?”
“As if I would care for some silly school competition,” Malfoy scoffed. “Some of us are well bred and don’t lack prestige or money. But, alas, I don’t expect someone with your level of intelligence to understand that, Potter. The filth you keep for company proves it,” Malfoy sneered and walked away with his posse before Harry could fire back.
“I almost wish that git would be champion,” Hermione said, “only for him to perform so badly he sets the new record for worst score.”
“That would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Ron said while laughing, then he suddenly paused then got up to talk to his brothers, who were sitting quite a bit away. “Fred, do you still have that quill?” Harry heard him say, but he wasn’t focusing on Ron.
Hearing the word ‘dream’ got Harry thinking about the strange one he had earlier this morning. Specifically something that had been in the back of his mind, bothering him.
“Mione, do you know what a horcrux is?”
“Horcrux,” She repeated slowly, “I’ve never even heard that word before. What’s a horcrux?”
“I don’t know either. I heard it in a dream, and it’s been bugging me. I don't know if it’s a real word or some gibberish my brain invented.”
“I could look into it when I go to the library later if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just some nonse-”
Harry was interrupted by a sickeningly cute boyish voice that said “I think you’d make a good champion, Harry.” He turned around to find Colin staring at him with eyes full of adoration. Harry hadn’t even noticed when the boy had sat on Ron’s spot.
“Erm, thanks Colin,” Harry said awkwardly, his cheeks getting redder by the second. He jumped in his seat when he felt Colin’s knee touch his. “I mean, you defeated You Know Who. I can’t think of a better representative,” Colin moved a little closer, “So Harry, I was wondering if I could ask yo-”
“Oh wow, look at the time, I totally forgot Professor McGonagall had asked me to meet her at her office. I should get going. Say bye to Ron for me, Hermione.” Harry swiftly got up from his chair and bolted away from his number one fan.
He thought he heard Colin say “But Professor McGonagall’s still eating breakfast,” but Harry could care less if his excuse stuck or not.